


a language of our own

by yosgay



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Confessions, Flower Language, Flowers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Promptis Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 16:35:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12112779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yosgay/pseuds/yosgay
Summary: Noct was all set to hold onto his pride firmly with both hands here, but just the thought of lying to Ignis makes him even more sleepy. “Wanna find some flowers,” he mumbles.Ignis purses his lips, raising an eyebrow. “For our dear Prompto, is it?” Anddammit, he’s got Noct dead to rights.Noct covers his face. “Just-- just shut it and help me find some.”Ignis exhales a small chuckle. “Flowers, hm?” He considers this, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “Not my area of expertise, I’m afraid. You’ll want to consult Gladio for that one. I’m sure he can help see to it your feelings… ahem--blossom.”And Noct groans like he's been shot.





	a language of our own

**Author's Note:**

> this is (late) for day 4 of promptis week!  
>  **good enough** / favorite trope

“Oh, dude,” Prompto says, suddenly behind him, smacking Noct on the butt where he’s perched tending to the fire. “Wanna come with me tomorrow morning?”

Noct jumps just a little, wills away the flush. “For what?”

"I want to-- look for something. At a shop, in that outpost we just passed.”

Noct tilts his head. “More snacks?”

Prompto puffs up a little, like a startled blowfish. “No, dude!” He crosses his arms, and Noct snorts softly. “Ah, it’s… a magazine.”

“Photography thing?”

“No, no-- flowers. It's, um.” Prompto’s brow furrows as he scuffs his shoe against the hard stone, traces glowing runes with the toe of his boot. “Want to find some nice ones around here. Take some pictures. What’s your favorite flower, Noct?”

Noct raises an eyebrow. “Wait, you like flowers? Since when?”

“Oh, since always,” he waves him off. “Maybe we should get some for, you know, when we meet Lady Luna.”

Noct’s eyebrows are reaching his hairline. “For… Luna.”

“Oh, yeah! You know, because I’ve still never met her, and I just think it’ll be nice to have-- well _something_ , because I figure, we’ve been out roaming all over hell and creation and there’s all these pretty plants, you know, and she’d appreciate something like that, right? Because she’s so pretty? Oh gods, am I allowed to say that? I don’t mean anything by it, honest! I know you guys are just good friends, and this whole thing is so complicated, but I just thought--"

“ _Prompto_ ,” says Noct, laughter in his voice he can’t hold back, watching Prompto turn into a rambling mess. He stops mid-word and snaps his mouth shut like a cartoon character. The gears in his head start turning, and Noct puts a hand on his shoulder as he makes to walk past. “Relax. She’d… love that.”

His face lights up, like the clouds parting, and Noct bites his lip. Prompto likes flowers, huh? He… never thought of that. “Though,” he adds quickly, “pretty sure you might want to go to the big guy for help with this one.”

Prompto looks the littlest bit disappointed as he tilts his head, hair glowing gold in the firelight. “Gladio? Really?”

Noctis tosses a hand up as he moves past and makes his way back to the tent, snorting loudly. “Never studied much etymology, huh Prom?”

\---

The next morning, for once in his entire royal life, Noctis is up bright and early of his own accord. He’s got a mission, and a damn good idea, and he’s gotta get to Ignis before Prompto gets to Gladio.

He drags himself out of the tent and into the chilly morning air, where Ignis is sitting calmly by the cold fire, coffee mug in one hand and magazine in the other.

“Heya, Specs,” Noct says, going for casual. He misses the mark by a mile, but besides a quirked eyebrow or two just at the sight of him, Ignis doesn’t comment.

“Up early, are we?” is all he says.

“You know me,” says Noct, with a dismissive wave and a poorly stifled yawn.

“Your whole life, actually, in which I’ve never seen you up at dawn apart from being dragged.” He sets down his magazine, crosses his legs. “Must be quite the occasion.”

Noctis looks away quickly, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Didn’t you say you needed more herbs or something? Thought I’d help you find them.”

And Ignis, in his infinite grace and wisdom, elects to outright ignore the circumstance in favor of the help. Noct figured as much. He’s not the best actor, but if he’s feigning _responsibility_ , well-- whatever reason he might have, he knows Ignis is keen to go right on letting him. 

Besides, they really _do_ need supplies.

Ignis sets down his coffee without a word. Noct’s a little slow to follow this morning, shivering in dewey air and squinting in the soft gray-gold light from the sun taking its time to rise. It’s pretty, but Noct certainly doesn’t mind it being a novelty. 

If he wasn’t certain he’s no morning person before this trip, well, he sure as hell knows now. He’s fighting another yawn when Ignis calls from where he’s already making his way below the haven. “Coming, Highness? Best hurry, or I’ll _leaf_ you behind.”

 _Gods_ , Noct’s gonna have a palm-shaped bruise on his forehead by the end of this trip. 

He tells himself again that this is for Prompto, fighting the urge to crawl back into his sleeping bag and huddle against Gladio’s back to chase off the morning chill. For now though, his eyes’ll burn for an hour or two, they’ll get some much-needed supplies, and maybe Noct can carry out this little plan of his.

\---

As it turns out, walking silently through the dusty desert of Leide with Ignis is proving to be worlds more terrifying than him calling Noct on his bullshit. He’ll only push when Noct gives, though he’s mercifully too sleepy to fully realize quite how transparent he’s being. Truthfully, Noct’s probably had stars in his eyes every night from the way it’s been gobbling him up and swallowing him whole, and if the most observant person he knows hasn’t figured it out by now, there really _is_ no hope left in Eos.

“Should be a patch over here, if memory serves,” says Ignis, guiding them further into the expanse of the desert. The sun’s rising lazily overhead, bringing the temperature up with it, and Noct’s hair is starting to stick to his neck. 

Noct hesitates, because they’re heading further towards the brush, and away from the patches of pretty yellow wildflowers that grow in the shade of the mountain walls. The ones that look like mini sunflowers, bright and cheery. The perfect ones. He’s just gotta find a way to get Ignis over to them so he can make sure they’re not poisonous or something, and pick a bunch of the best ones to take back with him. 

Without Ignis noticing. 

Piece of cake.

“Something the matter, Noct?” Ignis asks, lips quirked, eyes probing. “You look like you could use a bit of encourage _mint_.” He holds up a bunching of leaves, before pressing them gingerly into a handkerchief. He tucks the bundle into his breast pocket, smiling like he's thoroughly pleased with himself.

Noct rolls his eyes into the next millennia, but can’t help quipping back, “what's that? Don't think I _herb_ you.” 

It makes Ignis smile, and Noct secretly takes an infinite amount of pride in that. 

“ _Thyme_ we cut to the chase, hm?” His smile turns expectant, crossing his arms and giving Noct his full attention. “I’m certainly not complaining, but you’ve never volunteered early morning help a day in your life.”

Noct was all set to hold onto his pride firmly with both hands here, but just the _thought_ of lying to Ignis makes him even more sleepy. “Wanna find some flowers,” he mumbles.

Ignis purses his lips, raising an eyebrow. “For our dear Prompto, is it?” And _dammit_ , he’s got Noct dead to rights. 

Noct covers his face. “Just-- just shut it and help me find some.” 

Ignis exhales a small chuckle. “Flowers, hm?” He considers this, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “Not my area of expertise, I’m afraid. You’ll want to consult Gladio for that one. I’m sure he can help see to it your feelings… ahem-- _blossom_.”

Noct groans like he's been shot.

“So you mean I woke up early for _nothing_?” He’s still tired and indignant enough that he barely keeps the whine out of his voice. 

“Afraid so.”

Noct grimaces. “Bigger problem: I may have sent Prompto to Gladio for flower advice. As a red herring.”

“Underestimating our dear Gladio, are we?” Ignis clicks his tongue, but gets a soft look about him, one Noct doesn’t think he’s ever really seen before. “The man knows a thing or two, Noct. And not _just_ about the wildlife.”

\---

“Where’s Noct and Specs?” Prompto slurs through half a yawn, stretching lightly as he comes out of the surprisingly empty tent-- no Prince of Lucis-shaped lump in the blankets next to him to avoid waking up.

Gladio shrugs. “Iggy dragged him out early to pick veggies or something.”

“Early mornings and veggies.” Prompto snorts. “Noct’s favorite things.”

Gladio grunts something that Prompto takes as amusement, thumbing at a page of his old paperback.

Prompto bites his lip, shifting his stance and hesitating a little. “Hey, I actually… had a question.”

Gladio peers up at him. Must be something in Prompto’s expression, because he immediately dog-ears the page, flips his book closed. And now that Prompto’s got Gladio’s full attention, he can feel his face heating up a little, and just hopes it’s not as noticeable as he knows it is.

“What’s up, Prom?”

Prompto takes a deep breath. “You got any… books on flowers?”

Surprisingly, Gladio perks up. “Not on me. Got enough plant knowledge to last a lifetime, though. What’d you need?”

“Uh…” he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Wanna come with me to get a field guide at the Hammerhead shop?”

Gladio smirks. “Ohh, for Cindy, huh?”

Oh, gods. As much as Prompto thinks she deserves the biggest bouquet in Lucis just for being _her--_ not quite. He’s about a thousand percent sure he’s not her… ah, _type_ , anyway. Well… whatever. Maybe at least Prompto won’t die of embarrassment if that’s what Gladio thinks. “Uh, yeah, for… Cindy.”

Gladio claps him on the shoulder, squeezing tight. Prompto feels the bruise forming already. 

“Welp. I know my fair share, but locations out here might be a little tough. Sure, kid. I’ll be your wingman,” he says, and he damn winks as he leads them to the Regalia.

\---

Prompto’s squirming by the time they start driving. Gladio’s serene as a pond, hair blowing in the wind, one hand hanging loosely and catching the air. He side-eyes him. 

“You’re shaking the whole car.”

Prompto forces his leg still. “Sorry, big guy,” he laughs, and it’s a jumpy sound, all anxious energy.

“Nervous, kid?”

“Yeah,” Prompto lets out in a breath. “Guess I am.”

“Relax,” Gladio says, waving him off. “Confessions ain’t so tough. And I said I’d be your wingman, right?”

Prompto bites his lip. He almost feels bad, lying to Gladio. But like hell is he gonna come clean about this if he doesn’t have to. They’ll probably find out eventually anyway, when Noct kindly rejects him, or maybe even… doesn’t, uh, do that. Prompto wrings his hands, because _that’s_ something he’s trying not to think about too hopefully.

“So since I’m doing you this solid,” says Gladio, “least you can do is be honest.”

 _That_ yanks Prompto out of his head. His eyes snap to Gladio, wide as saucers. How the--

Gladio just smirks, leaning back into his seat like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “What, you think I was born yesterday?”

Prompto groans, fitting his face in his hands. “Specs know too?”

Gladio just gives him a _look_ , and Prompto smacks his own forehead hard enough to leave a mark. “Of _course_ he does.”

\---

“Ooh, these are pretty,” Prompto says to Gladio over his shoulder, flipping a few pages.

“These ones here?” Gladio points a big finger at the page of the guide, to a bouquet of deep purple and blue flowers. “Ha. They mean remembrance, and strength. Mostly strength.”

Prompto gives him a weird look. “Strong flowers, huh?”

“They don’t grow in the desert, though. Not unless there’s a shit ton of rain that year.” He flips a few pages back, eyes scanning the index. “And I wouldn’t recommend getting ‘em for Noct, unless you want to send some pretty mixed messages.”

“Wait, why?” Prompto asks with a tilt of his head. “He’s strong, right? And I like… remembering him?”

Gladio barks a laugh, and ignores when half the shop looks their direction. “They’re gladioluses, kid.”

“ _Ah_. Gotcha.” Prompto side-eyes him. “Strength, huh?” 

Gladio just grins, and snaps the book shut, tucking it under his arm and slapping a few gil on the front desk to take it and a few floriculture magazines with them.

“Kinda wanted to go for something blue, since it’s Noct’s favorite,” says Prompto, as they make their way out of the shop and back to the Regalia. “Not really a common color in the desert, huh?” 

“Not necessarily, Prom. Might have to settle for some purple, though.”

“I can live with that,” Prompto says, brightly.

“Maybe a day this week, we’ll take a drive to Cleigne,” he says, climbing back into the driver’s seat. “Bribe Iggy into letting His Laziness sleep in awhile. This book says there’s asters closer to the shore. Those’re blue.”

“Ooh, what do _they_ stand for?” Prompto knows he’s practically got stars in his eyes, but he can’t help it. This stuff is cool, dammit.

“Lo- _ove_ ,” Gladio drawls with a shit-eating smirk, stretching out the _o_ in a mocking sing-song. Then he actually _winks_ , the bastard.

“That uh…” Prompto goes red to his ears. “You don’t think that’s… a little much…?”

He barks a laugh, flicking the car into drive and tearing out of the parking lot. “Oh trust me kid,” says Gladio over the roar of the engine, looking him up and down, “it’s _plenty_.”

\---

Noct’s laying down in the tent when Prompto and Gladio get back, burning himself out on King’s Knight to quell his nerves. Ignis promised to help him have a private word with Gladio, and his leg’s bouncing halfway off as he waits for them to _go_.

“Ah you’re back. Say, Prompto,” he hears Ignis say, coolly. “Since His Highness was of less help than a dead tonberry this morning--“ (“ _hey!_ ” he squawks from inside the tent, unable to help himself. He hears Ignis clear his throat, and Prompto snort. Traitors.) “What’s say you take his place and help me find some herbs for supper tonight?”

“You got it, Specs,” Prompto says, all bright and helpful, and Noct’s chest squeezes.

“Off we go, then.”

He waits a count while he listens to eager-and-deliberate footsteps and banter retreat, emerging from the tent and squinting in the early afternoon sun.

Gladio eyes him, half a granola bar in hand, phone in the other.

“You like flowers, right?” Noct blurts out, like an idiot.

Gladio just stares at him. Noct thinks if he was anybody else, he’d probably throw a punch. Under the weight of those boring eyes, he backpedals.

“I mean, we got some for Iris that one time right? And you seemed to…” he gestures vaguely, desperately trying to illustrate his point. “I dunno… know stuff?”

Gladio keeps on staring. Noct feels like he’s been stripped naked. This is somehow worse than Ignis.

“Iggy said you know this stuff, so… I was just…” His voice is erring on a squeak. “Wondering…?”

Eyebrow raise.

Stare.

“ _Gods_ Gladio, just help me pick some godsdamn flowers alright,” he huffs, all in a rush, crossing his arms and looking away like a petulant child.

Gladio grins. “Why didn’t you just say so, princess?” He claps him on the shoulder, almost sending him into the cold embers of the fire. “We’ll find something Prompto will like.”

Noct blanches, arms dropping from his sides like a rag doll. He makes a noise halfway between a whine and a squawk, something like a dying anak.

“Ah, I mean _Luna_ , right?”

Noct makes another pathetic little noise, and ducks his head away.

“Astrals, with you two.” Gladio rolls his eyes. “You know, you’d probably be better off asking _her_ all this in that little notebook a’ yours. Hell, she probably knows Prom better than you do,” says Gladio, and Noct scoffs. He puts up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m just saying. Have you ever seen the kid’s letters to her? Longer than yours by a mile, Noct.”

Noctis flushes again, toeing the dusty ground with one shoe. “I just…” he mumbles weakly, “don’t know what to say sometimes.”

Gladio claps a big hand on his shoulder, brings him in for a noogie like they’re twelve years old again. “That’s fine Noct, but maybe try a little harder, huh? You played this all wrong, you know."

“I what now?” asks Noct as he yanks himself away, preening, trying to stick his hair back up the way he likes it without that metric ton of hair gel.

“I’m sure she woulda been happy to give you some dirt on chocobo-boy,” he says, all sly. “You know, for the right price.”

Noct snorts. “And that is?”

Gladio throws a look over his shoulder as he leads them away from camp. “Couple choice shots of Cindy should do the trick.”

Noct’s mouth hangs open for a second, before he puts his face in his hands. “Holy shit, you’re right.”

“Too late, loverboy,” says Gladio, laughing heartily, already making his way to the Regalia. “Now c’mon. We’re burning daylight.”

\---

“Pretty,” Gladio hums, at the picture Noct is pointing out in the magazine. “You might have trouble with yellow, though.”

Noct tilts his head. “Why’s that?”

“Yellow flowers’re usually a symbol of friendship.”

Noct snorts. “Well, okay, maybe, but it’s not like he’s gonna know that, right?”

Gladio looks unimpressed.

“Can’t I just…” he waves his arms around, trying to illustrate his point. “Make something up?”

“Listen kid,” Gladio says, pushing Noct’s shoulder. He almost sends him flying, a little less than accidental. “You asked for my help, so we’re gonna do this the right way.”

Noct huffs. “Fine. Guess you’re right anyway.” He pauses, looking around. “Hey, there’s sunflowers around here, right? Like, desert ones?”

Gladio rubs at his chin. From what he read in the field guide with Prompto, there should be some along the roadside, a mile or so from where they are. “Prob’ly, yeah. Sunflowers ain’t romantic, but they do mean loyalty. And they’ll match his chocobo-head for sure.”

Noct brightens, eyes shining. “Maybe we can find some other yellow ones, yeah? For like, I dunno, a bouquet?”

Gladio scoffs. Damn, he’s got it bad. “Shiva, Noct, I know you like the kid, but are you really gonna--“

“It has to be perfect,” he snaps, and Gladio’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. He presses his lips together, trying his absolute hardest not to outright laugh at his king. In these moments, he muses quietly, it’s easy to forget Noct’s status.

“Wish I could get you this motivated to do something _useful_ ,” he mutters.

Noct just flips him off. He wanders over near a rocky slope while Gladio follows under the beating sun, gravitating towards tiny yellow specs in the distance. 

“What’re these?” Noct asks when he gets there, gently fingering the petals of a tiny, cup-shaped yellow flower.

Gladio looks at them closely for a minute, and picks one. Reddish spots on the inside, spindly nodes on the leaves. His mind connects back with yellow cups. Primrose.

“See all those red dots on the stem and inside?” Gladio holds a bud up for Noct to see. He actually looks fascinated. “Pretty sure they’re primrose. They’d work, if you want ‘em. They mean young love, and that you can’t live without somebody.”

Noct fixes him with a probing look. “Okay dude, there’s no reason you should know this much just from _camping_.”

Gladio shrugs. “I read a lot.”

A lot of field guides, a lot of encyclopedias, a lot of trashy romance. Flowery bullshit included. Anything he can get his hands on, especially out here where days without hunts mean they all sit around for hours, bored to tears. Might as well learn something while they’re at it.

Noct’s brow furrows, like doesn’t know what to make of that. He opens his mouth, closes it again, mutters something about meatheads and bookworms that Gladio decides to let go. But he nabs a few of the prettiest ones, gently as he can, holding them like ornate glass. 

They wander all around the hills of Leide, letting the late afternoon sun beat them into the ground. Gladio doesn’t mind so much, though, and if Noct’s getting his exercise and not sleeping the day away, who’s he to complain?

“What about these?” Noct says, crouched down, face an inch from a weedy patch of golden wildflowers.

Gladio snorts. “Dandelions? They’re a weed.” 

Noct frowns, brow furrowed. Gladio sighs and crouches next to him. 

“Pretty, though. And they mean faithfulness.” He slaps Noct on the back, throwing his balance. “You’re on your way to a regular novel with this one, kid.”

Noct bites his lip against a small smile, and turns away. It’s the most shy Gladio’s seen him since he was a kid. It’s a brief flash of back then, when the prince would barely leave his room apart from school, and him and Ignis would spend the worst days blowing off training and advising to cheer him up. They’d be there for hours, just trying to wring out a smile. 

Then Noct met Prompto, and well-- after that, they didn’t have to try quite as hard anymore.

Didn’t hurt at all that him and Ignis would still make time for each other those same days, when the prince was off with his best friend. They’d made sure to keep the trend going, if only for consistency, of course. That’s what they’d tell each other, in the back of the movie theater, a secluded corner of the library, pressed up against the wall of Gladio’s apartment. 

Just part of the job.

So normally Gladio probably wouldn’t be in the business of meddling with young love, much less the childhood crush of his liege-- but to say he’s not grateful to Noct for what he’s found through him, well, that’d be a bold-faced lie. Plus, if he’s honest, he’s been watching these two idiots dance around each other for years, and he’s more than a little sick of the lovesick puppy act.

After all, he’s been there, too.

\---

Ignis is trying his royal best to figure out exactly how to handle this one.

An advisor to the future king is no advisor at all if he can’t figure out how to play something as simple as matchmaker. Gladio’s done his part, and Ignis can only hope he’ll measure up. 

Prompto trots along beside him, wondering at the cloudless sky overhead, snapping pictures of anything and everything, and Ignis feels a rush of fondness as they go. Truthfully, if he had to choose anyone for his king, he’d be hard pressed to find someone better suited.

“So whaddaya need, Specs?” Prompto says, shielding his eyes from the sun’s glare. He’s so eager to help, and it makes Ignis smile softly. Time to bite the bullet, though. They don’t have all day.

“Ah, the usual,” he says, bending down to inspect some shrubs. “Basil. Dill, perhaps. Some lovely flowers for the prince. Good garlic, if we’re quite lucky.”

Prompto stops mid-step, short-circuiting. “Some _what_ now?”

“Garlic?” Ignis asks, all innocence, fighting the smirk.

Prompto _whines_. “ _Dammit_ Iggy, you didn’t even _see_ Gladio for more than _two seconds!”_

Ignis stands up, dusts himself off. He fixes Prompto with a look. “The service may be spotty out here, but I assure you, text messages do indeed go through.”

Prompto curses under his breath. “Does the whole damn _continent_ know now, or what?!”

Ignis chuckles, leads them down into a dry basin in the shade of the mountains, around the edge of what was likely once a desert oasis. It’s just like Gladio described, a smooth depression in the ground covered in patches tiny purple and blue flowers. “Just us, dear Prompto,” Ignis says, as his eyes go wide and he nearly drops his camera. “Just us.”

\---

Ignis, quite literally, has to stop Prompto from picking the whole damn carpet of budding pale blue and purple lavender. Yes Prompto, it is beautiful, _yes_ Prompto, that bunch _is_ the color of Noct’s eyes when he just wakes up, _no_ Prompto, you have to leave some for the poor, fragile Leiden ecosystem. 

“It -- _sniff_ \-- smells so -- _sniff_ \-- _nice_ ,” Prompto says, with a whole handful of the stuff pressed to his nose. If he’s not careful, he’s liable to pass out, and Ignis tells him so.

“Breathe, Prompto.”

He gives a lop-sided smile, and picks a few more stems for his comically giant bouquet. “I can’t _help_ it, Iggy, it’s just--“

“It’s perfect, Prompto,” says Ignis, and he can’t help but smile at the stars in his eyes. “Noct will love it.”

Prompto beams, a proud flush in his cheeks. It’s the most endearing thing Ignis has ever seen.

He taps out a quick text to Gladio.

 **17:38:** Lavender.  
**17:38:** I never asked, what’s it stand for?

A few seconds later, his phone buzzes.

 **17:39:** devotion.   
**17:39:** purple is royalty   
**17:40:** also femininity, but these idiots don’t have to know that

Ignis snorts softly as he pockets his phone, and is grateful Prompto’s not paying him any attention. If he looks close enough, he can practically see the cartoon hearts floating around his head as he arranges his bouquet just so for Noct.

He remembers well, falling that hard.

\---

When Ignis and Prompto let the others know they’re making their way back to camp, the sun is just starting to dip low, bathing the desert in soft orange light. The brightest stars peek over the pale horizon, freckling a perfect gradient of blue to orange. A cool breeze billows the unzipped tent flaps, swirling fresh air inside, the first relief from the oppressive heat in hours.

It’s a gorgeous night.

And Noct’s a nervous wreck.

He’s got his bouquet all set, stashed carefully in his corner of the tent under some old Insomnian newspapers. It turned out really nice, if Noct does say so himself. He doesn’t know dick about flowers, but they’re pretty and smell nice, so who cares? He’s got the whole story of the individual flowers and their meanings memorized, and he’s been going over it obsessively with Gladio all damn day since the other two left.

He’ll start with the sunflowers, that’s an easy one. They mean loyalty, and Gladio says they’re classically a happy flower. They’re the ones that remind him most of Prompto, so that makes sense to start with, Noct thinks. Dandelions come next-- they’re close in meaning, with faithfulness. Noct’s not convinced he won’t turn tail and run at some point, so he figures the least he can do is start with the ones that could very well just symbolize their friendship.

Not like most people get flowers for their best friend out of the blue, but whatever. Prompto’s an understanding guy, right?

Primrose, that’s last. That’s-- they’re his real confession. _I can’t live without you_ , and young love. Noct’s sitting there in the tent, going out of his wits just thinking about saying that out loud. This whole thing had been a moment of courage, an idea his one-track mind latched onto before he even thought _this_ part through. Now he’s cursing himself for this stupid idea. He’s been quietly nursing this crush since high school, why the hell is he doing this _now_? 

At this point, though, with how much they went through to do it (and his aching feet and sunburned arms can attest to that), Gladio might kill him if he doesn’t. Ignis, too.

He flops onto his back, fingers drumming restlessly on his stomach, and waits waits _waits_. 

\---

Noct may have dozed off for a little while when he hears the familiar din of voices from outside, a thin line of drool on his cheek and a cramp in the arm propping his head. The fire flickers outside, dancing across the thin tent walls. Noct’s blinking sleep out of his eyes, about to go out and cajole Prompto into a round of King’s Knight like usual, when his arm brushes a bundle of crinkly paper.

All at once his sleepy brain catches up, and ice shoots up his spine.

He swallows hard, biting at the thin skin of his top lip. He’s not quite awake yet, thoughts still a little soft and blurry around the edges, but he’s doing this now, dammit, like he planned. If he doesn’t, he never will. He carefully grabs the bundle, steels himself with all the strength and courage of a Lucis Caelum, and steps outside.

Ignis and Gladio’s eyes snap to him immediately, and Ignis gives him a small nod to where Prompto’s sat at the edge of the haven, gun summoned and in pieces for cleaning. That’s… kinda perfect timing, actually, Noct thinks. Prompto gets really into it when it comes to his weapon, always tinkering and making sure every pieces is spotless and perfect. He takes his job seriously, a far cry from the scrawny little kid who showed up scared shitless to the first day of Crownsguard training. 

Gods, Noct loves him, and in a breath he’s almost overcome with it as he watches. Gladio gets up and slaps him on the back, almost making him stumble, leaving him with a “you got this, Noct,” and a light push towards him. 

His fingers shake around the stems. He hides them pathetically behind his back, and quietly sits down next to his best friend. 

“Heya, buddy,” he says, without looking up. He’s got an old toothbrush in hand, rubbing strong-smelling oil into the barrel, work spread out on a clean towel in front of him. 

Noct tries to say hi back, but it comes out in a squeaky little laugh, which Noct is kicking himself for, because that’s _not_ the smooth line he was going for, but he doesn’t really think Prompto even hears. He’s got his glasses on, and picks up a long, cylindrical metal piece Noct couldn’t identify if his life and legacy depended on, holding it an inch from his nose, brow pinched and squinting to make sure it’s clean. 

He’s so… _gods_ , he’s so…

If Noct were a more observant person, he’d notice Gladio’s stifled laughter behind him, the nudge of his elbow into Ignis. Maybe even the undignified snort from Specs himself. But he’s too wrapped up in his own head, the stupid bouquet held just barely out of view, pins and needles protesting his arm’s position.

Prompto must either feel the swarm of angry garulas stomping around in his stomach or maybe just how awkward the air is between them, because his brushing falters for a second as he tilts his head towards Noctis. “You need something, Noct?”

“I, uh,” he says, eloquently.

Prompto carefully puts down his work and flips his glasses up on his forehead to looks at him proper, eyebrow quirked. “Dude?”

Noct’s fingers tremble as he flips his arm around to reveal the flowers, pushing them into Prompto’s arms without even looking. He makes a noise, one that Noct can’t identify, and this is suddenly so _stupid_ , he doesn’t even know why he did it.

When he chances a look up, expecting anything from disgust to laughter, and sees Prompto, stunned, eyes wide and mouth hanging in the low light, he just stares. Like an idiot, who seemingly just gave his best friend flowers for no reason, who _doesn’t_ have a prepared speech about why he’s done it.

Fuck, the speech. He needs to--

“So they, uh--“ he starts, and Prompto’s eyes snap to his, blazing. “Sunflowers, those tall ones. You-- you probably already knew that, but they’re loyal.” Prompto’s mouth closes. He just keeps staring, and Noct’s getting flustered. “The dandelions, they make people faithful even though they’re a weed, and the last ones, these little cups? They’re-- because I lo-- because, I uh. Life without you would-- suck?”

Noct doesn't even know what he’s saying anymore. He thinks he just heard someone behind him smack themselves in the forehead. Is it too late to get up and just jump into the fire? Or maybe he could just walk ten feet from the haven and if he’s lucky, an iron giant will carry him away and into oblivion.

Prompto’s expression is changing, his wide eyes going softer around the edges and his lips rolling in with contained laughter, and great. That’s just what Noct needs. He’s gonna laugh at him. This whole stupid thing was for nothing, and he’ll literally never hear the end of it from Gladio. He’ll be ruling the godsdamn kingdom and him and Luna will probably tease him into an early grave, and--

Then Prompto’s moving, reaching under his camera bag, and he pulls out a bundle of tiny blue flowers. He turns back, with a smile that makes Noct forget it’s nighttime, and presses it into his hands.

He bites his lip. “They mean-- devotion.”

Noct can smell them already. It’s like clean laundry, and they remind him of the soft sheets of his old room in the palace. He can hear his dad, the lilt of his voice reading a bedtime story he thought he’d long since forgotten. 

He feels heat behind his eyes.

“Shit, Noct,” Prompto says, all laughter and boiling over with pure affection, “if I’d have known you were gonna take my idea, I’d have gotten some more.”

Noct’s heart feels like running with Gladio, on the sand at Galdin in the middle of a July afternoon. He feels himself moving in slow motion to take Prompto’s hand, and Prompto grabs back firmly, twines their fingers together. Noct feels every centimeter of contact, burning through him and sparking like a lightning spell.

“Know what, Prom?” he says, surprised when his voice comes out even, and when he keeps the tears where they ought to be. “They’re good enough for me.”

Prompto laughs, brings their hands up to kiss his knuckles with chapped lips. Noct’s breath catches until he hears a wolf whistle in the background, and they both lock eyes before doubling over in a laughing fit. 

If Noct were a more observant person, he would notice Gladio hand Ignis a single sunflower, and the small kiss Ignis gives in return. Instead, though, he’s wrapped up in Prompto-- in his eyes, the splotchy flush on his cheeks, the dusting of freckles that stand out even in the dim light of the fire.

“The primrose,” says Noct, when they’re done laughing and about an inch from each other’s faces, sharing breath. “They mean-- they symbolize young love.” 

Prompto teethes at his lower lip, eyelashes fluttering. “Perfect fit, Noct,” he says, and closes the distance.

**Author's Note:**

> (shoves my biology degree with an ecology focus in your face)  
> i went to college for an actual reason, i swear


End file.
